Saoirse Alone

Blog for my online art gallery

Saturday, July 22, 2006


Resolution -- to talk to this blog, or to journal. Stop talking to people about things. It only gets me into trouble, and leaves me questioning who is real and who will vanish from my life without warning. My mind is plagued by enough doubts, and people can be very two-faced. It tires me out just reading all the signals and feeling the energy, just to survive ordinary life.

"touched with fire"

Last night I realized that this will always be in my head.

I'm not with a pdoc yet, or a therapist, or anything. I find stuff online. I journal. I take St. John's Wort. I fight myself a lot. I stay very quiet when my moods start shifting.

I'm nervous because I'm seeing a cardiologist about heart problems, and her son is bp, and she has offered to help me find a pdoc/therapist who will listen and take a cognitive/behavioral approach, and not just dope me up. I was doped up as a teen and early 20s, and I never went back. I'm 34 and been fighting on my own for about 15 years.

"Shame", I guess, is a word for it. I find myself thinking back over people I talk to or write to, and wonder .... should I have said that, wish I hadn't done that, I should apologize, I'm nuts, what am I worried about, ........ last night I was grateful for having found a friend who seemed to understand, but at the same time I was wondering, is she sick of me yet??? Someone else yesterday got annoyed that I changed e-mail addresses and asked, "So are you changing everything else also? I didn't know someone could have so many addresses!" ........ it's a quirk of mine, and I changed addresses because Yahoo was being a pain in the rear and showing me ads for anti-deps no matter where I clicked - because I made the mistake of clicking on ONE ad .... and that e-mail wasn't working right anyway.

I get bored after a while, and I "change faces" .... I always have, and anyone who has known me for more than a few months, knows I often change addresses. I let people know, I make it easy for them ... one elderly lady yesterday took issue with me at a BAD time .... yesterday was rough, felt like my mind was an empty room, a few random thoughts floating around but couldn't hang onto any of them .... slipped and fell in the kitchen, whacked my arm .... thought about cutting again to try to get rid of the empty blank tumbleweed feeling in my mind (didn't) ..... family came over again, I appreciate them and I'm glad they feel comfortable in my home, but I'm wanting a padded room at the moment, not people talking and asking questions and telling stories and expecting an intelligent response from me ..... and we're having the whole family over today for my mil's birthday, so I'm up early trying to prep myself mentally for handling in-laws, nieces, nephews, commotion, static-electric energy ....

In me, it's hidden because most wouldn't believe it, they tell me "nothing's wrong with you" when they don't live inside my head, or they say, "this is what's wrong with you, not bp" and say something unrelated and irrelevant ...and the ones who are aware, want me to get help but don't want to talk about it ..... I'll get help when I feel I can trust someone and when I don't see that "prescribing pen" come out the instant I talk about my agitation, racing thoughts, suicidal depressions, and static mind.

I WANT to talk and share the craziness that goes on in my head, but I can always "see" people's faces in response .... that subtle "backing away" they do when you share yourself and hope for understanding and acceptance "as is", and instead they change the subject or never speak to you again. Shut out.

So last night, I was feeling frustration and some despair, and to some extent I still am .... because this won't go away, I have to deal with real life no matter how I'm feeling, and people won't understand if I fall apart or if my mind breaks apart in chunks because there's nothing holding it together .... my one grateful thought at the moment is that I am NOT on anti-depressants, so I know that my mind won't suddenly drop into my stomach and the fits of rage and violence take over. Every time I think about getting help, I remember those years and I am never going back to that Hell!!!!!

Thursday, June 22, 2006


Now I have the word for what I am feeling ... it is "rejection", and I'm tired of it.

Tired of reaching out, tired of trying, tired of being rejected again as yet another person realizes that I'm not who he/she thinks I am or wants me to be .... tired of expectations and not meeting them, tired of having to live in society and deal with people because I'm married and have young children, and I can't be a recluse avoiding everyone because I can't do that to my family.

So instead I live with this pain, I live with this frequent experience of rejection, and then I create "disturbing" art that makes people uncomfortable and want to change 'me', but expressing that feeling is the only way I can release it and move on with my life.

But people don't want to see the feelings that they secretly feel responsible for, so they attack the artist and don't look within themselves to learn from their experiences .... we just speak the feelings and experiences created from how people treat each other, nothing more.


"They say that sanity is always determined in relationship to societal norms. And it's those people who can adjust to the insanity of the world -- even who accept the insanity and the sickness of the world -- who are called sane. Should we artists align ourselves with the sane, or shall we take a chance, and walk with our pain, or the pain of others -- in order to tell their stories perhaps -- to let them know that someone understands? To let them know that someone could imagine it, that someone could imagine what it would be like to look "wrong" when you have such sweetness and beauty inside, or even the opposite, that you look "right" on the outside and have such dissonance and even torment on the inside?

I am suggesting that you see your pain with its integrity. I am not saying that you should accept it, or dwell or indulge in it; I am saying you should see it, just as you see the sunrise or sunset. Your pain can be a source, like the color blue, or orange, for that matter. It can be one of your colors; it can be a tool."

- Anna Deavere Smith, "letters to a young artist"

The Wanderer

I had a dream that my image turned to tan (my color for 'nothingness') and that I was in the desert, with nothing around me in all directions but land and horizon. And a brilliant sunset (sunrise?) loomed in the distance with all colors building the skyline.

Often I have dreamed of having so little that I could just take myself to anywhere in the world, set myself down, and start over from there, as if I had never left wherever I happened to be. That money did not exist and people did not box up in houses, that we could plant ourselves anywhere and experience life and living wherever we found ourselves to be.

This is a strange comfort for me ... no attachments and nothing holding me back, no people misunderstanding my intentions, no one making assumptions about me or feeling things about me that aren't true, no one trying to mold me to their image of what a good woman, daughter, wife, mother should be .... to leave everything behind by having nothing to hold onto but myself and Creator .... and all of Earth Mother being "home" for a wanderer who is deeply lonely and desperately tired, but doesn't like fences, rules or boundaries. And I've never had a good understanding of social etiquette, I "read" people Sso I can survive in society, but I never seem to understand most people all that well, in interactions, relationships .... often I give up trying to 'fit in', then I am called a recluse or a hermit.

I never claimed to be an easy person to get along with (I'm not), but people wonder why I am so quiet in person. (When I open my mouth, I tend to stick my leg in it, not just a foot.)

I think there would be more comfort in the desolation of a desert, than in the company of people and 'civilization'.

Earth Mother's children (non-human) have never asked me to be anything but myself, we've always gotten along very well, and I feel we always will.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Money is not a reason ...


The art world is tough, which is obvious. It is highly competitive, while hard to compete in - because "art is in the eye of the beholder".

My work is not for everyone, or even most people, and I realize that. I don't fit into categories or styles, nor do I try to.

And for that reason, I've been told by some that my work is not "salable" .... who said I was selling? Of course I am always "broke", but when did I ever hold money as a consideration for creating? That has never been my "style", in Reiki, art, or anything else.

I create because I need to. Because my heart holds feelings that don't have words to express them. So I paint or draw them instead.

I've been told that I've lived more in almost 34 years than most people live in a lifetime. I have many stories to tell, but most of my stories come without words, so I need to use colors and shapes and metaphors to tell my stories.

I've experienced and studied many, many subjects from all over the world ... and much of it appears in most of my work.

I try not to let the work of other artists influence me. I like a purity to art - art that is original and the artist's own views, rather than being influenced by someone else's ideas, images, experiences, or opinions. Maybe that makes me a purist or a prude, I don't know. I don't hang out with other artists. I don't hang out with anyone, really. I'm a solitary type ... I prefer the silence and sounds of Nature over people. I seek people out when I need to connect or need to get out of my head for a while .... but I'm a natural introvert, so I don't stay very long. Some people feel that I am aloof or "anti-social" ... they're correct.